Signal Fire
by StoneSabre
Summary: Ross finds out something mortifying the night that Chandler purposes to Monica. How will he be able to cope with it? Will it bring out how he truly feels about "them," or more devastation?
1. Chapter 1: The Void

**Disclaimer: Friends is owned by Bright-Kauffman-Crane Productions. Title from the song "Signal Fire" by Snow Patrol.**

* * *

The tension of his situation reflected off the pale walls. Their thickness kept this melancholy secure, a trapped secret that he swore would stay here.

His eyes drifted to the black hands overlapping each other across the circular plane on the walls.

7:34

As he looked at the clock, he had found interest in focusing on it, not for the knowledge of time in keeping terms of any schedule, but the sound that emitted from it as the angles of the hand drifted clockwise. He needed a sound to listen to prevent the deafening silence from eating away at his sanity.

"I'm gonna be straight with you Mr. Geller"

Those words seemed to grab the tension out of the air, and suspend it in it's judgment over his head. The hammer was coming down on him, he could feel it even before it hit.

"You only have 7 months to live."

Like the light in a black hole, the wind in his lungs was whiffed in vacuum of unrelenting force. He felt a hot sensation begin to swarm over his body, pushing sweat through his skin.

"The only way you could possibly survive is to undergo the surgery, but due to the position of the tumor..."

There it was again, the tensions falling down, ready to crush him with the might of Armageddon.

"You'd only have a 40% chance of surviving the operation."

The bright meteors set fire to his soul and held his breath to the smoke. He suddenly found himself hyperventilating.

"If I were you, I'd go with the operation, but it's your decision."

The doctors words had bounced off of him. Ross Geller was now too forgone in his shock to process anything else.

"There'll be some paperwork to fill out at front desk. The nurse will be here shortly to lead you back to the lobby."

Ross slowly rose from his position on the bedside. If the doctor before him could describe how Ross stood there, he'd say he were staring at a lifeless husk.

The doctor approached Ross and gave him a sympathetic smile, trying to let him know that he was aware of his burden. "Thank you for stopping by. I'll give you some time to think about it before we go through with anything else."

* * *

For every car that fled down the street as he walked home, he felt nothing. For every person that walked by, he felt nothing. For every window that reflected the pitifulness of Ross Geller, he felt nothing.

The tragedy that had been his secret visit had sent him drifting into a void. Inside, he felt as cold as the steel skyscrapers towering into the updrafts.

He kept himself detached from the light of the city as if it were oblivion. He couldn't even question how his life had come to this point, or even what decision he would make. The only thing going through his mind was the gruesome finality of it all

_I'm going to die._

He finally lifted his heavy head from the ground when his apartment came into view, and he stood there on the edge of the sidewalk. When he allowed his eyes to drift across the street to the building at 90 Bedford Street, he was assaulted by the force of a thousand questions beating against his throbbing brain.

How was he going to tell the other? How would they react? What would they suggest he do?

As these questions flew by him, he couldn't latch on to any of them, nor did he attempt to ponder them. It didn't matter if a hopeless void hit him with a thousand questions at the velocity of light itself, there was no purpose to them. There was no point in understanding anymore.

His tired legs carried him across black pavement to the concrete on the other side. He stopped himself when he placed his hand on the door to the lobby. For a second, he contemplated grabbing a cup of coffee across the street, but he quickly realized that he had not an ounce of desire to socialize with anyone. He just wanted to be alone with his thoughts for now.

However, after entering the lobby and hovering to the elevator doors, the sight of the small, empty interior of the elevator came to him with a realization that struck his heart down.

He was stepping into this alone. No one shared his fate, no one would follow him, and no one would be there waiting for him.

_Would anyone even miss me?_

When he passed the threshold set by the elevators sliding doors, he realized that he felt the sensation that he was trapped. Not only by hopelessness, but the situation in it's entirety. He tried to ignore this feeling, but as he lifted his hand and tapped the "3" button on the elevator wall, this revelation came gnawing back at him.

He was going to die soon. Whether it be six months for now or sooner, it didn't matter. He had been trapped by his own fate, and he could do nothing but wait as it slowly and painfully suffocated him until not a single breath of life was left in him to exhale.

The almost cute ringing of the elevator alerted him that he had quickly reached his floor. And yet as quick as it was, it lasted for another breath that contributed in rapidly ticking away as his meager life.

When the elevator doors parted as if they were the gates to hell, his legs, subconsciously once again guided him to what could only be described as his purgatory. At this apartment he would rest until his body would decay.

His hand wrapped around the cold door nob, but once more he paused. This was where he would spend the next six months in as he awaited a visit from Death. The thought of this place being his deathbed was enough to freeze his blood over like the arctic winter. His hand began to tremble, but he did everything he could to stop it, trying to suppress his fears before opening the door.

What was fear anyway? He already knew that Death was soon to come to him and sweep him off of this Earth. No matter where he sat, whether it be at home, at Monica's apartment, or at Central Perk, it wouldn't make it come any slower.

But when his eyes came to the apartment wrapped in the depressing silence only broken by the sound of his footsteps, the realization of this hollow loneliness came barking back at him.

He only took a few half hearted steps before he found himself pausing again. He stood for that moment and took the time to scan through his possessions and furniture that dotted his lonesome apartment.

His solitude was his purgatory, and it was his fate. Even though he had friends that said they cared about him, in the end, it didn't matter. He was alone in his fate, and when he was gone, this apartment would be cleared out and everyone would move on. It was his harsh reality, and when he finally absorbed it, letting his mind settle on the task of pondering that truth, it angered him. He suddenly found his blood boiling

He tried to form an image of how his life was to unfold based on how he had always pictured it would. He saw someone who harnessed a face that shined through all confusion and loneliness like the sun piercing through the black fog. He imagined a diamond resting upon the silver ring that wrapped around this someone's elegant fingers. He imagined their own ray of sunshine that would look out into the world with an eye of spirit and youth that he once possessed.

For a while, he had known who that certain "someone" would be, the winds of time had blurred the paint, leaving only a messy canvas where her face once was.

He saw happiness, as he had always perceived it would be.

Now, his chance at happiness was once again being pulled away from him, this time permanently. Fate had decided that he had screwed up enough, and his pitiful life was no good on this Earth any longer.

Meaningless.

Just another hunk of trash being thrown aside to burn.

He would be thrown aside alone, as the sight of everyone else lingered in his eyes, forcing him to watch as their lives went on as his was ruthlessly drained from his body.

The finality of this all hit him with the fires of hell. His knees gave out under him, and he screamed bloody murder.


	2. Chapter 2: Nice Meeting You

**Disclaimer: Friends is owned by Bright-Kauffman-Crane Productions. Title from the song "Signal Fire" by Snow Patrol.**

* * *

Monica and Chandler were engaged.

Rachel had initially been excited about the prospect of two of her closest friends getting married. It was the natural, as knee-jerk reaction after Monica announced it to her, Joey and Phoebe, but it took a while for the realization to really sink in. Monica was getting married. As she sat in Joey's cushioned chair, watching the TV flick threw channel with the repetitive press of a button, she imagined how the couples future would play out several times, each scenario being similar to the last. They would have the wedding that Monica had always dreamed about. They would buy their own house and have kids. Monica always said she wanted kids.

She imagined sunny days walking in the park, holding her child's hand. She imagined getting them up for school on the weekdays. She thought of coming home for work, her kids running up to her laughing as they proceeded to tell her about what happened at school. Then later in the evening she would make them dinner and tuck them into bed before going to her room to snuggle up next to Ross...

Wait- _what!?_

The sudden image of Ross yanked Rachel out of her rapid daydreaming. She couldn't be getting caught up in Ross's antics again, not ever.

Besides, Monica was the one getting married. She had to think about her and her happy, not getting caught up in her own fantasy about someone she could never and shouldn't have. Unfortunately, thinking about Monica's engagement over time only amplified her loneliness.

"Hey, Rach."

Rachel had not noticed someone standing next to her while she was locked in her conflicted musing. She looked up and met Joey's face staring at her with concern.

"Hey, Joey."

"You okay. You've been awfully quiet."

She couldn't blame Joey for showing concern. She had surprised herself how quiet she had been since the engagement. She thought that she should be flowing with excitement right now, but she felt rather exausted.

"Yeah, I'm just tired. It's been a long day."

It wasn't a complete lie. A lot had happened to all of them today, and, for better or worse, a lot was changing,

"Can you believe that they're gettin' married?" Joey asked, his tone turning from concerned to playful.

"I know. Those two are going to be so happy together." She answered sadly. "But it's just happening so fast."

"I hear ya. I've known Chandler for a long time, and I never thought he'd be able to score someone as good as Monica."

"It's hard to believe, but those two really belong with each other." Rachel added, starting to turn away from Joey.

"It's just so weird. I mean, three years ago, if someone told me the guy that went out with Janice - the guy that got dumped by Janice - would be gettin' married to Monica, you might as well told me that Ross was getting an Oscar for a dinosaur documentary," he joked, getting a chuckle from Rachel

"It's just that, I was always the guy that got all the hot girls. You know I could marry anybody I wanted. I could ask you to marry me, and you'd say yes. I know you would."

"Joey!" Rachel exclaimed with mock surprise before giving him sarcastic grin.

Rachel found Joey's ramblings amusing, but she'd be lying if she said that Joey's feelings didn't mirror her own. Like Joey and Chandler, to say that her and Monica had been best friends for a long time was an understatement. Since they were six, the two spent everyday of their childhoods together and beyond even that. Not only had they gone to the same schools, but they had been roomates once. However, the only thing that people on the outside knew them as was Rachel, the girl that got all the hot guys, and Monica, her formally fat friend.

To say that she always thought that Monica would end up alone for the rest of her life was an unfair statement, but she'd be lying if she said she'd expected Monica would get married before her. Most had figured that Rachel had better chance at settling down in a committed relationship. That's what she had always wanted.

She almost married Barry, but backed out when she realized that she wasn't in love with him.

Then there was Ross, someone she legitimately did love. For a while, she thought he would be the one for her, but then he had to go and ruin it by sleeping with that slut from the copy place, who's name she couldn't even be bothered to remember.

She thought she had gotten over Ross, but after hearing of Monica and Chandler's engagement, she couldn't help but think of what could have been.

She still had feelings for him, there was no denying that. Hell, she had even admitted it to him after they came home from his wedding to Emily, which ended up being a total disaster. But she couldn't get hung up on the prospect of them, not again. They would just have to stay friends and move on.

She wished it was that easy. The truth is that she tried to move on, but since she broke up with Ross, every guy she had ever been with failed to make her feel the same way that Ross did. All of them either weren't genuine, or were too immature to understand how to be in a commuted relationship - or just immature in general. Ross was the last person to make her feel like she was truly loved by someone, even if he went overboard with it sometimes.

However, she could never go back to Ross. He cheated on her. The prospect of "them" had long passed, and there was no going back.

So that left her with her current dilemma. Her best friend was getting married, and she wasn't.

She gradually fell into despair as one question ran through her head.

Would she ever get married?

* * *

Ross had been lying awake on his couch when he heard the phone start to ring. Not in any rush to talk to anyone - let alone about his rather unfortunate day, to put it lightly - He contemplated whether he should even bother answering the phone.

Much to his chagrin, the phone continued ringing. He turned to the ringing phone next to the bottle of vodka on the table and reached his out to it. He picked it up and pressed it against his ear.

"Hello-"

"Hi Ross!" An annoyingly enthusiastic voice shrieked from the other end. He recognized the voice as Phoebe's.

"What is it, Pheebs!" He groaned, rubbing his his bloodshot eyes.

"We've been waiting for you to come over. Where the hell are you?"

"I'm at home," he responded, confused, "and for what exactly are you waiting for me?"

"I left a note on your door!"

"I didn't see a note." He retorted, becoming increasingly annoyed and perplexed.

"Well I have glasses for that, Geller. Just check the door."

"Whatever..." he sighed.

"So you're coming?"

Ross stayed silent for a moment, contemplating whether he should use this opportunity to tell them

about his...condition. He knew that he had to tell them eventually, so he figured he would just get it over with.

"Yeah..." he simply answered.

"Alright, see ya."

With that she hung up. He placed the phone down before shifting himself into a sitting position. He glanced at the clock next to his phone.

8:42

It had been a little over an hour since he left the hospital.

He pulled himself up to his feet, which he felt as if had become numb. As he trudged to the door, they again brought the sensation that made him feel as if he were hovering through a void.

He exited the apartment and noticed the yellow sticky on the outside of the door. He figured he must have missed it when he was too preoccupied with the notion that he was dying in 7 months.

In that moment, the thought had come crashing back to him with incredible force, leaving him temporarily disoriented, but he tried recovering from it by brushing off the thought, if only for now. He had forced the emotional stress out of him by screaming and attempting to drink himself to sleep. For now, he had to keep his emotions at bay, at least until his secret was out.

He took the note off of the door and began to read it.

Monica's apartment.

Bring champagne and a Three Musketeers bar.

Ross finished by running his eyes over the Three Musketeers part again corner - obviously added on by Joey, as he could tell from the sloppy handwriting - and rolled his eyes.

* * *

Ross laid a bottle of champagne - as well as a Three Musketeers bar - on the counter at the front of the liquor store. The cashier added up their prices.

"Champagne, hmm. I guess someone's celebrating tonight." The female cashier snarked while Ross handed her the cash.

"Yeah, I guess." Ross answered half-heartedly, not bothering to make eye contact. The cashier put the two items in a plastic bag

"Hey! Why the long face?"

Ross stuck his hands his pocket. "I've had a long day. I don't want to talk about it." He asserted.

"Why not?"

"It doesn't matter. I'm not sticking around here for long anyway." He said, his voice seething with dread.

The cashier leaned into him and gave him a warm smile. "Hey, a guy as cute as you shouldn't be so blue." She brought her hand up to his face. "Chin up, alright?"

Ross brought his eyes up to meet hers at the contact of her hand against his jaw. He noticed how pretty she looked with her brunette complex, and he couldn't help cracking a smile, but he didn't even think about bothering this time. She seemed so sweet. If she only knew what he was going through.

Ross grabbed the bag off the counter "Thanks. I'm Ross by the way. Ross Geller."

Why did he say that? It's not like his name would be of any use 7 months from now.

He turned and headed for the door, not wanting this to go any further.

"I'm Doris."

Ross stopped with his foot at the exit at when she introduced herself. He turned back to the brunette cashier.

"Nice meeting you, Doris."

He pushed the door open and walked out into the night.


	3. Chapter 3: Forgotten

**Disclaimer: Friends is property of Bright-Kauffman-Crane productions. Title from the song "Signal Fire" by Snow Patrol.**

* * *

The stairs leading to apartment 20 seemed to spiral up for hours. It could **have** taken hours. It could have taken days, what did it matter? All he wanted to do was find out what Phoebe wanted him to bring champagne for, tell everyone about his condition and just pray to God all hell wouldn't break loose.

So he had come to the purple door that was the entryway to his sister's - and formally his ex-girlfriend's - apartment, when he froze in his place. When he began searching his pockets, he struggled to find his key. He grunted to himself when he realized that he had left his apartment without it, but he couldn't help but feel slightly relieved that his meeting was being delayed.

He started to shuffling and fidgeting in place, growing increasingly anxious. On his way over here, he had found himself repeatedly going over different scenarios of how his friends would react when he told them that he had cancer. He mostly found himself thinking about how Monica would react. Mostly because she was his sister and he figured she would be the most devastated, but that wasn't the only reason.

The truth was that he was afraid to think about how Rachel would react.

He immediately shook the thought from his head. He couldn't think about that now. He had made up his mind. He would had to tell all them of them, here and now, and deal with the consequences, whatever they may be.

He tried to think about what the woman at the liquor store told him as he gathered his composure.

"_Chin up, alright_," He whispered to himself, trying to reorient himself.

"Okay."

He took a deep breath before bring his hand up to the door, knocking on it with three modest beats.

A silence that seemed to forebode the darkness that awaited him followed.

He waited.

The door opened, and he was greeted by the face of his best friend; his sister's boyfriend.

"Hey." Chandler greeted. He made no attempt to hide the happiness flowing from his rather high pitched voice.

"Hi." Ross said in that way only he could say it, at odds with Chandler's joyous demeanor.

"You alright, man?"

"Oh, yeah I'm fine." He answered a little to quickly, trying to compose himself. He cleared his throat before saying, "Phoebe left a note on my door telling me to come over."

"Oh, yeah, we all have been waitin' for ya. Come on in."

Chandler opened the door further, allowing Ross to enter.

This was it. There was no going back now. Tonight he was going to tell them that he was dying exactly seven months.

_Fantastic_...

He felt his blood tingle uncomfortably as he could feel the eyes of Joey, Phoebe - who were sitting at the kitchen table with glasses of what he assumed to be champagne - immediately glued to him. He couldn't even bring himself to make eye contact with Rachel, who was sitting next to them with her on glass of champagne, but she didn't seem to be glancing his way either. Joey and Phoebe greeted him as he approached the table and he greeted back, but strangely, Rachel stayed silent.

He cleared his throat in an attempt to shake off some of the intensity while taking out the items in his plastic bag and holding them up. "The note said to bring champagne and a Three Musketeers bar."

"Yeah, I'll take that!" Joey claimed while snatching the the candy bar out of his hand not even a second after he finished the word 'Musketeers,' much to Ross amusement.

"So, um Phoebe, what'd you want me over for?" Ross asked while setting the champagne on the kitchen counter, trying to make small talk as a means to ease in his bombshell.

"Actually," Chandler chimed in, "there's something that we need to tell you."

"Likewise. There's something I need you guys too," Ross responded trying to hide the dread in his statement "You go first."

"Alright." Chandler settled before speeding past him and toward Monica's room. He peeked into the bedroom and called to her. "Monica. Ross is here."

Chandler came back with Monica coming out of the bedroom and in toe. They stopped in front of him before Chandler wrapped his arm around Monica and held him beside her. Both if them were smiling.

"What's going on?" Ross asked, his curiosity.

Monica looked at Chandler, and he looked at her, giving her a reassuring and loving expression.

Ross looked at her and his face went wide with shock.

"Did he..."

Before Ross could finish his sentence, Monica's excitement got the best her. "We're engaged!" She blurted out.

He could practically hear his brain exploding as a thousand different thoughts and emotions bounced around in his head. He was at lost for words.

"Oh my God," was all Ross could utter.

"I know!"

"Oh my God!" Ross exclaimed again, his excitement getting the best of him. By instinct, Ross reached out to his sister and wrapped his arms around her. She happily returned the embrace. He let her go and turned his attention to Chandler, and did the same to him.

"Wow, you two are really getting married? I mean this is actually happening?"

"You bet!" Chandler yipped excitedly, "You're gonna have yourself a new step-brother!"

Noting that fact, he was immediately intrigued with the prospect of living as Chandler's step brother.

Of course, that was until he dwelled on the "living" part of that thought.

That was all it took to send him crashing back down to Earth.

"Wow. I mean, my best friend and my sister," Ross uttered, his voice becoming increasingly strained. "I mean that's great. That's really great."

It was wonderful that Monica and Chandler were getting married, and he wanted to be happy for him. But the wretched void, the ticking time bomb threatening to destroy his life just kept crashing down on his head. He felt his eyes start to become misty, and he turned away.

"Ross?" Monica squeaked, the happiness in her voice replaced with concern. "What is it?"

"Nothing, I just..." He spoke up, trying to force the tears back. Monica saw this and gently grabbed by the shoulders, pulling him towards her. She sat him down on the couch next to her. The rest of the group gathered around them.

"Ross, what's the problem?" Monica urged.

"It's nothing," he persisted. "I'm just so happy for you two, is all."

Monica didn't completely buy it, but she was thankful for her brother's courtesy.

"I mean you two are perfect for each other. Truly."

The two smiled at Ross generous blessing. His words got a collective "awe" from Joey and Phoebe, but Rachel remained silent still, eying Ross with both concern and curiosity.

Finally Rachel spoke up. "Ross, honey, there's something you wanted to tell us?"

"Oh yeah, um..." He trailed off, trying to regain his composure, but tears kept threatening to fall. "I just need a second." Ross decided, standing up from the couch and walking toward the door to the hallway. They all eyed him worriedly, but they heeded his request and decided not to follow him.

He opened the door and stepped outside. After closing the door, he leaned into the corner next to the purple door to apartment 20. he soon lost in his thoughts again.

Monica and Chandler were getting married. They were going to settle down and live the rest of their lives together, with their soulmate.

And he wouldn't be around to see it.

He wouldn't even be around for their wedding day. He imagined he'd either be dying in a hospital and too sick to get out of bed, or already dead. And even if he did attend their wedding, he wouldn't even be around to see their marriage evolve. He would never be able to see their kids, and they would never know their nerdy uncle Ross.

How was he supposed to tell his best friend and his sister that they're kids were going to grow up never knowing their biological uncle? Their kids would be living their lives, he'd be nothing more than a memory in their parents minds.

He grabbed his chest as the emotional pain threatened to shatter him from the inside. When, a minute ago, the announcement of their engagement gave him happiness for just a moment, reality had sent him spiraling back into the bleak void.

The sound of Monica's apartment door creaking open pulled him out of his racing thoughts. He looked up to see the face of his ex-lover.

"Hey," Rachel greeted, sounding rather shy.

He wished that he could avoid direct communication with her on this night, but that seemed to be a small inconvenience once their eyes were locked. Her peachy, sweet face and golden brown hair were still as beautiful as they had been when they were going out.

Despite his conscious pinning his mind down into the misery of his situation, he found himself smiling when she spoke to him.

"Hey," he responded.

"Are you okay?" She asked with concern in her voice.

"I'm fine," he replied, trying to brush off her concern.

"You don't seem like it. Why'd you walk out like that?"

"I just needed some fresh air."

Rachel scanned the closed in area. "Ross, we're in the hallway."

Ross sighed and looked away from him.

"Ross, what's wrong?" Rachel asked sweetly, putting a hand on her shoulder. "You can always talk to me."

Ross gazed back into her ocean blue eyes. Her beautiful orbs of light melted him inside in the way only she could. He wished he could tell her what had been eating away at his mind - as well as his body.

"I think I know what it is."

"Rachel, nothing is wrong." Ross persisted.

Rachel glared at him,growing curious at his stubbornness. She decided to take a different. Deciding not to press the matter any further, she tried a different approach. "It's just, Monica and Chandler are getting married and, um..." She trailed off.

"Yeah. That's the new thing. Their the hot topic." Ross joked, trying to lighten up the mood.

"You know, I've been thinking tonight about...about 'us'. Like, what if we hadn't broke up and we got married."

"Really?" Ross yipped.

"Yeah," she grunted before clearing her throat. "Do you ever think about us. You know, what could have been."

"Rach, what's this about?" His voice immediately became serious, as well as a little cold. "Do you want to get back together."

"Oh, no no no no no!" Rachel exclaimed a little too quickly throwing her hands in the air. "Noooooo...can't go back there. Because, "us." Yeah, I don't think that'll ever quite work out."

Ross faltered somewhat at this comment, knowing he was the reason for that.

He crossed his arms and gazed at her, curiously

"It's just...Oh!" She burst, her voice sweeping over with excitement. "You know what we never had? Bonus night!"

"Bonus nigh- what?!" His voice went from curious to confused.

"Yeah, bonus night. It's when to people that used to go out sleep together for one night, you know, for fun."

"You mean like, just go out and be a couple for just one night?"

"No, not a couple. Just...you know...sex."

Ross uncrossed his arms and glared intently at her. There was something about this that intrigued him.

"No feelings..." she trailed off again. Ross claimed the freedom of taking a few steps toward her, and she followed suit.

"No, dating..." her voice got softer, as she started to feel her legs turn to jell, but she pressed on.

Ross began to lean into her, his eyes gliding to her lips.

"No words..." She stood up on her toes on her toes.

Ross leaned in further.

"Just one night of nothing but passion..." she whispered seductively, "you and me, and nothing but our hot, sweaty bodies ...and our lips."

As she finished, the two of them closed there eyes. Their lips connected in a thirsty kiss. In that moment, the passion that each of their bodies had been deprived of for far too long swept over them both.

They wanted more. They wanted to hold and feel each other again.

Ross urged the kiss on, pressing up against her and taking her in her arms. Rachel responded by pushing back, and soon they were in a battle with their lips locked in passion.

It felt good to him, just being with her, and being able to feel her, all of her again. He regretted ever letting this go in first place. It was enough to make the world disappear around them, wrapping them in the love from within each other that felt so familiar, and yet so rejuvenating. He felt as if he were flying, but...

_You can't do this! You're only going to hurt her!_

From within the confines of the prison that was his own mind, he was sent crashing back down to Earth.

**_Stop!_**

His conscious ultimately won, and he opened his eyes. Hastily, yet reluctantly, he pulled away from her. He locked his sight with hers again. They were both heaving for breath, and their eyes were wide with shock.

He shook his head and pulled his eyes away from her. "Rachel, I can't do this."

Her eyes fell to the floor. "Your right, I shouldn't have done that. I'm sorry..."

"No!" Ross blurted out. "It's okay."

The two locked eyes again in understanding. The passion that had wrapped around them warmly was now replaced with a cold silence.

After what could have been hours, Rachel was the first to speak up. "I should...probably go back inside. You coming?"

"I'll be along in a minute." Ross whispered. He mustered a loving smile that she had become so acquainted with. Rachel smiled back, but she couldn't hide the sadness behind it.

It destroyed him that he had been the cause of her sadness yet again.

"Okay." She said before opening the door and disappearing behind it.

Once the door was closed and he was out of sight, Ross turned around and leaned against the door, his back facing it. His gaze became hazy as he became lost in thought yet again. He pulled his head back in agony when he realized that the absolute worst was happening.

_She wants to get back together with me._

* * *

Ross flicked on the lights after entering his lonesome apartment

He trudge over to the couch in the middle of his purgatory - wrapped in the desolate silence brought on by his failures - and slowly sat down. He glanced over to the clock on the table.

10:06

And his life just continued ticking away.

Now, he truly felt trapped.

Ross had spent the night in celebration with the others over Monica and Chandler's engagement. He put on the best plastic smile he could, giving the façade that everything was okay, but on the inside, he was dying in every way possible. He couldn't even look in Rachel's direction for the rest of the night.

Never once did he tell them about his condition.

He knew Rachel had to be disappointed that they didn't get there bonus night, but she didn't show any bitterness about it, as far as he could tell.

If only she knew what was about to be taken from her.

There was no getting around the fact that he was dying. While Monica and Chandler were going to get married and live their lives happily in the arms of their soulmate, there was no way he'd be able to have any of that with Rachal. All he had to give to the women he loved was a funeral, complete with a casket where his lifeless body would lie.

She would never be able to feel the warm embrace of her lover, and he'd never never be able to feel her gentle touch again.

He'd be causing more pain to her than he ever thought possible. The more he thought about it, the more he hated himself.

However, that wasn't the worse part of it. No matter what she felt on the day that he died, the truth was that in time, just like the rest of them, she would get over it.

From the day that they broke up, it was Rachel's every intent to let her feelings for him subside. She swore to herself that she would move on and to find someone else that wouldn't cheat on her.

Given tonight's events, The prospect of Ross dying was just a means of making that process easier for her.

Part of him felt that perhaps he should be happy about that. She would finally be able to forget about the man who broke her heart, now that he would be gone from her life forever.

But the finality of it all seemed to reach into him, strangling and shattering him from the inside out, dazing and disorienting him with the torture of heartbreak. He realized that this was the worst he had felt since the night that he and Rachel broke up.

His eyes glided to the bottle of vodka still sitting on the table next to the phone. When he went to pick it up, he was disappointed to find that only the bottom inch of the liquid was left. So he decided he would make the best use of it.

He held the glass out in front of him.

"To the happy couple."

With that, he took the rest of the vodka down in one swift gulp. When he was finished, his inner pain began to force the first of the a teary, stinging mist out of his eyes. After setting the glass bottle down, he leaned back and shifted his body into a sprawl across the couch.

His purgatory kept him wrapped up in his lonesome prison.

He didn't scream.

He didn't drink.

He didn't even attempt to fall into slumber.

He just laid there alone in the silence of the void.

And he cried.


	4. Chapter 4: Illusions

**Disclaimer: Friends is owned by Bright-Kauffman-Crane productions. Title from the song "Signal Fire" by Snow Patrol.**

* * *

The golden rays that swept over New York's pristine skyline, sweeping the slumber of the city's residents into a motion of varied routine, inched over the offices of Ralph Loren at a snails pace. With daybreak's celebration, the solar ribbons swept past the curtains revealing only a fragment of the New York stage, and shimmered off the papered files dotting Rachel's work place.

The confetti of morning brought with it commotion from the city streets, but inside the office of Rachel Green, the sporadic tapping of her bony fingers against the keyboard dented the silence exotically cradled by the light.

With every strike of the keys, Rachel submerged further into her dancing carousel, putting distance - if only for a moment - between her and the dream that always seemed frozen in time.

As the rows of black words against the screen expanded, the urge to prolong that moment protected her head from the carousels of what had transpired last week.

With the irritation of dwelling on her mistakes seeping into her like a snake's venom, she indulged in work as an antidote, with her senses kept entranced and stimulated by the bright screen against her eyes, displaying files and databases keeping the lifeline between her and her fashion career and shielding her from social numbness.

The audience appreciates good looks, after all.

A quick chime sounded off from the computer, startling her out of her delicate musings. An enveloped blinked on the corner of the screen, and she clicked on it. The icon enlarged into a singular row of words against a blank layout.

'Hey Rach it's Joey.'

Trying to keep herself together, she quickly typed 'Hey Joey. Do you need something?' and pressed send.

She waited for minute before his reply came in another line of text appeared underneath her response.

'Where'd ya go?'

Wanting to keep herself together without attracting suspicious eyes, Rachel fabricated her answer.

'I'm at work. Kim wanted me to come in early after one of the workers got fired.'

She hovered her finger over the send key, but she hesitated. Her story sounded believable enough for now, but she knew she would have to come up with something in case she ever felt the urge to take off for work so early again.

'It may take a few days to hire someone else, so I MIGHT have to come in early for the next few days'

After adding that tidbit of information, she pressed send. His answer came shortly after.

'Okay, well I don't want to hold you up. I'll see ya, Rach.'

'See ya, Joey' She typed and pressed send, ending the conversation.

Her stomach churned with discomfort, when the realization that she had deceived one of her closest friends emerged. It felt awkward lying to Joey, as it did to any of her friends. But in order to keep herself together, she had to keep to herself. The last thing she wanted everyone to know was who had been on her mind non-stop since the night of Monica and Chandler's engagement.

She grimaced when she pictured how they would react if she talked to them about it. They'd all get overly excited wanting to know if she and Ross were getting back together, or they'd feel hurt that they were not in on the fact that she and Ross had almost made out, let alone on her best friend's engagement night. She had already been too hung up on the incident to even talk to Ross, the last thing she needed was pressure from anyone else.

However, it would have been nice to have someone to talk to and share her feelings with. Everything that happened since the night she and Ross kissed had been a blur.

She thought about the moment when they had fell into each other's embrace and locked their lips together. It felt so rejuvenating to be able to feel him again, to have his strong arms wrapped around her, and to feel his warm breath against her. The memory was stuck to her mind, and it was all she could think about. It came to the point that she had to resort to indulging in work just to have something else to think about. In fact, she hadn't even noticed that she and Ross hardly spoke to each other.

She sent the brief response and ended the conversation. She felt alienated keeping her close friends and roomate in the dark. As always any one of her friends would be glad to give her answers. However, she figured that perhaps she should talk with Ross about it before letting everyone know. Ross tended to get insecure get when everyone knew about him that he hadn't shared, which made her wonder why Ross had seemed so secretive and defensive that night.

She had been so indulged with her thoughts about Ross that she hadn't even realized how distracted she was from her work. When she realized this, she felt herself shaking. For reason's unknown to her, an anxious feeling swept over her.

Even after the emotional roller coaster that was her relationship with Ross - ended with him sleeping with someone else and breaking her heart - Ross still lived inside of her. Her gut instinct told her that she should be angry, both at herself for setting off these thoughts by trying to get in a "Bonus Night," or at Ross simply for being Ross, Monica's geeky older brother that she simply could not get enough of.

She suddenly found it impossible to focus. She got up from her desk and slowly paced the floor of her office until she came to the window below the curtains Her eyes became locked with the sun's golden rays as it they shined off her blond hair. The sun was a mirror of her own state of mind; a collection of colossal structure of thoughts and ideas, outshined by the ray of light in the distance that couldn't be reached. The illusions of her job to her friends, to the wedding became a white blur in the light of the only thing she could thing she could be sure of now.

Ross.

She was falling for him again.

* * *

The brown liquid swirled in a burning whirlpool. As he stared into the coffee spiraling in the center of the china, Ross smirked at the observation that the it represented his life in it's current stage, forcefully sucked into a void through his own interference and manipulation.

Ross still hadn't found a way to tell everyone about his condition. It was hard enough to do under normal circumstances. No matter where they all were in their lives, it pained him to tell them all that they're group was being cut down one member.

To further complicate things, everyone was preparing for Monica and Chandler's wedding. This was to be a time of celebration for everyone. To top it all off, Rachel still had feelings for him. She didn't say so directly, but it was easy for him to put the pieces together; Monica's wedding, asking if she still thought about their relationship, requesting one night of sex. If that didn't say enough about where she was and how she felt, the kiss that they shared afterwards certainly did.

Right now he needed to keep his distance. For the past week, Ross' engaged in the same routine, get out of bed, get ready for work, pick up a cup of coffee, drive to the university, teach his class, drive back home, stop by at the liquor store, maybe engage in a conversation with Doris, go back up to his apartment where he would proceed to drink himself to sleep.

He would only eat occasionally now; ultimately, it didn't matter what kind of shape he put himself in. His body was deteriorating, no matter his diet. This week alone, he had turned down three invitations to dinner at Monica's. In fact, he barely even spoke to his friends anymore. He'd sometimes run into them in the coffee shop during the mornings, but even then, they'd be lucky if they got a simple hello from him.

Sometimes, he'd get a call from Monica asking if he was okay, he kept up the lie that nothing was wrong to the point where deception became apart of his routine. It was easier to just keep his condition a secret, even though he sound agitated when answering her questions.

He just couldn't deal with the fact that the friends he had surrounded himself with for seven years would have to go through the process of losing one of their own.

Even harder to deal with was the fact that he was losing Rachel and this time permanently.

When Chandler had called him earlier that afternoon, telling him to meet him at the coffee shop, Ross had exerted a tension releasing sigh.

"Yes"

Speaking that word, allowing a moment of sincerity free of deception, of the noose tied by his own secrecy, he felt liberated.

"I'll be there," he answered.

It was only when he sat down on the orange couch in Central Perk that doubt returned to his mind. He had been so eager to break his mind numbingly repetitive schedule, he didn't even stop to think what it was that Chandler wanted to talk to him about, or if he would even be there. For all that it mattered, Monica, or even Rachel could have set him up.

Fortunately, his fears were eased when Chandler came through the door, walking into the place that had become the group's familiar hang out spot. When he saw his friend sitting on the orange couch in the center, he bolted toward him.

"Hey, Ross. Glad you could make it."

Ross hadn't noticed his friend enter until he called out to him.

Admittedly, hearing his voice resonating with excitement, typical for a man preparing for his wedding day, lifted his spirits somewhat. But the thought that his best friends was about to have everything he ever dreamed of for the rest of his life while Ross barely had a "rest of his life" to speak of brought him crashing down. It seemed that the feeling of contentment was no longer his to feel, which only made his fall into eventual death that much more agonizing.

"Hi" Ross answered monotonously.

Chandler sat down in the brown chair right of the coffee table and looked across at Ross "I'll get right to the point."

Ross merely nodded as a signal. for him to continue.

A grin spreading across his face, Chandler took in a deep breath. "I want you to be our minister. I want you to marry us."

Ross opened his mouth to speak, but he was cut off.

"Joey and I agreed that he would be the best man for he wedding, but he showed me this website where people can be granted by the state of New York the power to marry. So you don't have to actually be a minister to marry two people."

Ross turned away from him with a sigh of melancholy before turning back to him with a sad smile "Chandler, that's great and all, but your going to have to get someone else."

Ross' answer was enough to cut into Chandler's glee, but he kept himself. "Why not? C'mon, not everyone gets the chance to marry their own sister. It'll mean a lot to her, and to me."

"I appreciate what you asking me to do this, but I just don't think I'm the right person for that kind of thing."

The faltering expression of joy on Bing's face was replaced with that of disappointment, "Well, Monica always said you were a good orator and all. Can I ask why?"

"Well, to be honest. I probably won't be able to make it to the wedding," came the dark reply.

Chandler's expression immediately went to one of confusion."So you're going to miss out on your sister's wedding?"

Chandler's question scraped the edge of confrontational but Ross remained unfazed.

"Are you jealous? I know it's not what you're used to, but other people have to have a chance to get married."

Chandler had meant it as a joke to lighten up the mood, but he only got a cold stare from Ross.

"But seriously, what's this really about. I know you, Ross. For you not to go to your own sister's wedding, there's got to be a reason why."

Ross let out another sigh, this one filled with anguish. It took all of his effort not to burst and tell him the real reason why he had to miss out on his sister's wedding.

"It's just that. I've had my share of weddings, and if I go to see your wedding, it won't do anything for me other than then remind me of the fact that I'm still not married. And I know that's selfish but, what good will a wedding do for me if I can't even enjoy it? I'm happy for you two, really I am, but now it seems like I'm never going be able to be happy for myself."

Ross had meant for his answer to be a lie, but he was surprised by how much truth there was to his statement. The fact that it was so easy to say only brought him more affliction. He had been granted his whole life to find happiness. Now, it had been stolen from him.

No matter how down Ross could get, whether it was after finding out that Carol was a lesbian or breaking up with Emily, he always carried that sparkle of hope in his eyes that, admittedly, Chandler had always admired in him; hope was something that he himself lacked until he fell in love with Monica. But looking into his eyes now, Chandler could not find that sparkle. His deep brown eyes had been drained into a hazy black. The hope in his expressions had vanished, giving the facade that Ross had lost all will to live.

_"Is he like this because of me?"_ Chandler found himself thinking to himself. The question of whether his proposal to Monica had left his friend in this state throttled every corner of his mind.

"I'm sorry, Ross," was all he could muster.

"No! Please, don't be. It's not anything you did," Ross tried to reassure him.

An uncomfortable silence surrounded them for what could have been hours. Chandler wanted to say something to convince Ross to change his mind, but the guilt that came with knowing that his friend couldn't enjoy his own sister's wedding had yanked his breath away, and for the first time since the night he proposed, he felt downcast. Ross couldn't stand to see his friend guilt stricken, but neither could he bring himself to tell him the full truth.

"See ya, Chandler." Ross whispered as he got up and headed to the door, not wanting to deprive his best friend of any more of his own joy. As he turned to the door, he was met with the sight of peach skin, golden brown hair and a set of all too familiar sky blue eyes.

_Rachel..._

The two held each other's gaze for what seemed like an eternity. Neither of them spoke. He felt the world around him fade away as it always did in her presence, but tat this point, bringing himself back to Rachel was what comparable to falling into an abyss. This time, he needed to escape.

In one swift motion, he tore his eyes away from hers and barged his way past her and through the door. He started his way back home and didn't bother to look back.

"Ross, wait!" Someone called out to him. He recognized it as Chandler's voice.

Chandler pushed himself in front of Ross and grabbed him by the shoulders. "Ross, don't give up. I know I make fun of you a lot, but you...you are a great guy and you shouldn't have to be alone."

Ross kept his head lowered to the ground. His friend was trying to help him, but unbeknownst to Chandler, he was beyond help.

"You're going to find someone who's gonna make you so happy, your gonna wake up every morning and think you're the luckiest man to have ever lived. Your gonna get married and raise a family and have everything you could ever dream of. If I could do it then I know you can."

Ross managed to bring his gaze up. He was met with a warm, reassuring smile.

He wished he could say he was proud that his friend would do his best to give him hope, but the only response he could muster was a brief, sad smirk.

_If only..._

Ross pushed his way past Chandler without a single word of reply, nor did he look back, not noticing the look of immense disappointment in Chandler's expression. His friend had failed to rejuvenate his spirit. Granted, strengthening morale wasn't exactly one of his strengths, but that didn't ease his own guilt for being so useless.

Chandler had remembered how happy Ross seemed when he announced his engagement. He remembered him shedding a tear and acting in general mood fit for a night of celebration. He assumed that they had been tears of happiness. Yet ever since, Ross had seemed so secluded from everyone else, turning down dinner plans and spending much less time at Central Perk and Apartment 20 than normal. As he watch as Ross walked away from him, his head titled down slightly and his shoulders slouched he could almost feel one of his closest friends slowly drift away from him.

Add in the cold silence he had just given the woman he claimed to love more than anything in the world, and Chandler knew that he was losing him.

It pained him to think that he was the one that had sent his friend over the edge.

Chandler sighed to himself before turning and heading back to the coffee shop. Halfway there he was met on the concrete sidewalk by Rachel.

"I didn't know he was taking this so badly," he wasted no time in saying to her.

"I know." She answered him half heartedly.

"I'm sorry about all of this. If I had known..."

"No." She cut him off. "It's okay. It's not your fault Chandler."

"Maybe, you should go talk to him," he suggested.

Rachel became stiff when he suggested this, but she took the moment to ponder it. She shook her head. "We should give him his space."

Chandler took another glance in Ross' direction. He was nowhere in sight.

"Yeah," he muttered unsurely.

They say that the best lie has an element of truth to it. The greatest illusions we build for ourselves are as deceiving as they are grounded in reality. It's only when routine and belief is challenged do we see further and realize the full truth that we blot out. No matter how we perceive it, the truth remains. It's the only thing that is absolute and, once realized, must be accepted. The capacity to face, grasp and even change our reality, rather than our own false perceptions, is the true measure of our resolve.

Disillusioned was another actor on New York City's grand stage. His dance had been brought to a close, yet the show continues. To accept his reality was to come to his journey's end.

The grand finale makes way for new beginnings.


	5. Chapter 5: Judgement

**Author's note: Hey guy, look. I updated. Happy? Huh? Is that what you want? Huh?! IS THAT WHAT YOU WANT!?**

**lol, Just kidding. I'm glad I've managed to make some people enthusiastic about my story. To be honest, I was a little uninspired to update this story after lack of feedback, which is why it took so long, but your reviews are nice to see, so I think I'm over it now.**

**Anyway, I changed the rating to T because the end of this chapter is a kind of violent. I'll try to upload the next chapter a little faster than this one.**

**With that out of the way, Chapter 5...**

* * *

Ross laid the three bottles of whiskey on the liquor store counter before Doris.

"Three this time? You keep drinkin' like this, you're gonna wake up one day and have amnesia," she joked.

Ross chuckled. "Trust me, it wouldn't be the worst thing."

"Why you gotta be so down and out?" She asked with her tone more serious, sensing his despair.

"I'm sorry." He shook his head as he lowered it. He knew Doris hated when he got so melancholy and pessimistic. "It's just this whole wedding thing has got me so worked up."

"Why? It's your best friend and your sister. Aren't you happy for them?"

"Well, yeah." He replied, throwing his arms out. "It's just a lot of other personal stuff, that I'm sure you probably couldn't be bothered to hear about anyway."

"You don't know that. I mean whatever it is, it's better to talk to someone about it."

He shook his head. "You'd only think less of me."

Her lips curled up into an annoyed smile. "Ross, I don't think anyone could possibly think any less of you than you do."

He laughed. "That...you're probably right about that."

Doris shook her head and chuckled as she began to put the three bottles of alcohol in a plastic bag.

Ross stuffed his hands in his pockets as he watched the woman in front of her. As downcast as he seemed around her, he really did enjoy her company. They weren't very close, and therefore he didn't feel obligated to her, so it was easier to spend time with her than with his closest friends in his last few months to live.

With that thought, a question came up in his head.

"Doris?"

"Yeah."

"Just say hypothetically, if you knew that you had to..." he stopped himself to compose his question in a way as to not draw suspicion "...move far away in a couple of months, when you really think about it, do you feel like anybody would really miss you?"

"Well, when you really think about it, who cares?"

"What do you mean?"

"Ross, there are a lot of people in this world, and even if you're gone, everyone else is just on living their lives. The world isn't going to stop spinning for one person, so why bother waiting around? Don't get so worked up about what other people think, baby, and just do what you gotta do. You hearin' me?"

Ross had expected an answer along those lines. He had already accepted the prospect of being forgotten even before he had asked the question. Nonetheless, it was hard being told - with your entire life still ahead of you - just to "do what you gotta do" when all you really had left to do was lie down on the ground and die.

"Okay, say I left and everyone just forgot that I existed, would I..."

Ross trailed off when he felt a brief numbness sweeping over his body. He stood frozen, his expression suddenly blank.

"Would you what?" Doris pressed.

He felt something coming. He suddenly felt something rolling deep in his stomach, sending a sharp pain through his body.

His breathing accelerated as the beating of his heart began to increase by the minute, as if some invisible force was draining him of his strength. beads of sweat threatened to excrete through the pores on his burning skin. He'd be lying if he said he didn't know the cause of this.

"Ross?"

He shook his head with a start as his period of fatigue passed over him. "What...oh, um..."

"You alright?" She asked with obvious concern in her voice.

"I'm sorry to bother you with all of this stuff. I'm just not feeling too well right now." He attempted to say as calmly as possible, coming off slightly robotic.

"It's okay." She said while putting the bag of liquor back on the counter and pushing it towards him. "I enjoy our conversations Ross. Really."

_Well don't get too used to them._

"Sure thing."

He pulled a twenty dollar bill from his wallet, but Doris quickly dismissed it with her hand. "I'll put it on my tab. Go get some rest."

He didn't bother to question her decision, and instead allowed his lips to curl into a gracious, but brief smile for the second time that day.

"Okay."

With that he grabbed the bags off the counter and moved to the exit, but slightly stumbled as another round of pain shot through his upper body, this one more potent than the last. He lightly clutched his side as he passed through the exit.

XXX

"He not coming to the wedding?"

If it wasn't for the fact that Rachel seemed to stare off into nothing as she explained to him the details of Chandler's meeting with Ross, she might have noticed the expression of shock in Joey's voice. Though she couldn't see the way that Joey reacted more surprised than she had expected, the tone of his voice certainly gave him away.

She shook her head.

"Why?"

Rachel had been pondering that same question since she walked into the coffee house and listened to their conversation. It's not that she didn't have an answer, but the reason that Ross had given Chandler she found hardly satisfactory.

"He said that going to the wedding would only remind him of the fact that he's not married."

Joey narrowed his eyes as he pondered that answered. "Well, don't we all feel that way."

She shook her head, seemingly absent minded. Though she ignored the hint of frustration in his voice, Joey had a point; this seemed like a really selfish reason not to attend a for your family.

"But Joey, think about it. It's Ross."

Joey titled his head slowly "Yeah, and..."

"I mean you know, it's _Ross_," she repeated for emphasis. "He's been trying to get married since he was like 18, and all he has to show for it is a divorce from a pregnant lesbian, and two other marriages that never even made it off the ground."

"Yeah..." Joey grunted. "But it's Monica and Chandler, like, his sister and his best friend."

"I know, but maybe that only makes it harder for him. It's certainly not easy to see my best friend getting married off."

"Well it'd be nice if he let us know that he was at least happy for them, ya know?" Joey stated, his tone becoming more hostile.

"Yeah, I guess."

Rachel thought back to her and Ross's brief meeting of eyes at the entrance to Central Perk. It was the only eye contact they had made since the night of Chandler's proposal. The image of his once bright, brown eyes turned to lifeless black stone had been burned into her head. It was first time she had ever seen Ross devoid of any emotion in her presence. No happiness, sadness, anger, or jealousy that always ran rampant in his head when they were dating. He had rushed by her without speaking a single word. His simply whipped past her, ushering nothing but cold indifference, leaving her thoughts in a daze. Rachel was no stranger to these feelings of confusion toward Ross, but never had they been this severe.

"I just worry about him, Joey."

"Then why don't you go talk to him?"

It occurred to Rachel many times that Ross would be alone in his apartment. But she decided against it, and stated what she had told Chandler outside of the coffee house.

"No. I think he just needs some time right now."

That's what she had told herself, but the truth was that she didn't want to be around Ross after he had been so cold to her, as selfish as that was. No anger had been displayed, nor words spoken; his silence and emotionless had said it all.

"Whatever..." Joey sighed. He lifted himself from the chair by the counter and walked toward him room. Rachel silently watched him leave, growing deeper into confusion as her only company in the room drifted away. "Hey, Rach."

Rachel glanced in his direction. He held his door open before him, but refrained from entering. "Yeah, Joey."

"Did something happen between you and Ross?"

His question immediately left Rachel uneasy. Had he found out about their secret kiss? His question had been so unexpected, especially from the supposedly dim-witted Joey Tribbiani.

"No. Why...would you think that?"

He stood frozen for several heart throbbing seconds before shaking his head. "Nothin'," he grunted before disappearing behind his bedroom door.

Rachel sank back into the chair, an uncomfortable mix of relief and anxiety washing over her. She had avoided Joey's suspicions for the time being, but her mind quickly shifted back to Ross.

He had been actively avoiding her since the night they shared a kiss outside of Monica's apartment, and seeing him for the first time since, he was obviously a nervous wreck.

Her eyes shifted to the phone sitting on the counter and she quickly reached for it. She dialed his number.

She waited.

When she received no answer, she hung up the phone.

XXX

Ross slammed through the bathroom door and quickly reached for the counter. He hyperventilated as he fumbled for any kind of substance that would ease his increasing pain. Finding nothing completely satisfactory, he decided on a bottle of pills he had been prescribed for to control his anxiety. After taking a dose of four, he ran out of the door and grabbed the one of the bottles of vodka he had set on the coffee table. He opened the bottle and took a large chug to wash down the pills.

An extremely sharp pain shot through his body, causing him to drop the bottle and clutch his stomach, grunting in agony. "Ugh...goddamn it!" He grunted painfully, drowning out the unpleasant sound of shattering glass.

He found himself drenched in cold sweat as the pain in his stomach burned even harder. He heart was suddenly racing. This unimaginably painful sensation centered in his stomach had seemed to come from nowhere, but in an instant, Ross could swear that his body was slowly being split in two. He found himself wishing that the pain was strong enough to make him pass out or at least lose feeling, then he wouldn't have to suffer through this. He felt as if someone had crawled into his body and was now cutting his way through his organs with a hot blade as a means to escape.

His legs gave out under him as his body weakened from the numbing pain, but he caught himself on the coffee table and trudged his way into the bathroom again still clutching him his stomach, not bothering to avoid the pieces of slippery broken glass.

He slammed the door behind him, making sure no one heard him in his fit of physical torture, before his anxious body sent him into a pacing frenzy.

"Argh...Ugggghhhh!" He snarled, trying to suppress his rapidly increasing physical pain, causing him to hunch over the drain. He clutched his stomach tighter, but it was too little.

The sharp burning lump shot up his chest and through his throat. His entire body convulsed as a stream of vomit was brutally forced through him and into the drain. Everything he had taken in throughout the day - which admittedly wasn't much - was forced out of him in increasingly agonizing droves. What came next made him realize that this was only the tip of the iceberg.

He caught a bit of a darker shade mixing in with his own puke within the water after the last of it had been forced out of him. He quickly grabbed onto the counter to keep himself standing. As he caught his breath through his burning throat, he saw himself in the mirror, his tears of agony mixing in with the sweat on his face. He saw a dark red smudge of his own vomit remaining on his bottom lip, and rubbed it off. Upon closer inspection he was horrified with the realization that he had just puked his own blood.

_No..._

His fit of pain quickly transformed into a desperate fight for air. He slowly collapsed onto the bathroom floor as the cumulation of this physical torture drained him of every ounce of strength he had.

_Why?_

He sprawled out on the floor, the last of his strength all but evaporated. He tried to force himself to stand, but with each push he exerted he felt as if gravity was pulling him back down a hundredfold. His futile effort to stand leeched away at his consciousness, and a black haze began to cloud his vision. He blacked out, the only sign that he was still alive being the echo of his pounding heart.

_Why did this have to happen to me?_

Death's cold embrace never seemed so close.


	6. Chapter 6: Confined

**Disclaimer: Friends is owned by Bright-Kauffman-Crane Productions. Title from the song "Signal Fire" by Snow Patrol.**

* * *

Even beneath the ebony blanket cast across the sky by the sun's withdrawal, the stage upon which New York stood stayed alit and alive by its own entrancing light. It's scattering, chaotic sounds rang through the phonics of the colossal pillars that dotted the city streets.

On this night, one man had stood on the balcony of his apartment that he shared with his soon-to-be wife with a cigarette in hand, having ceased his dance of happiness and celebration to silently soak in the emotion radiating from the ever-illuminating city. Sounds of city traffic, the music of late-night clubs and parties, and the aromas of exquisite diners made up the performance composed by New York's millions of residential architects.

Every minute or so, his eyes drifted towards to the window across Bedford St. For as long as he stood on the balcony, no signs of life radiated from the apartment that belonged to his future brother-in-law, and frankly that worried him. He had heeded Rachel's word and kept his distance. After all, if anyone knew how to approach Ross best, it was her. However, the thought that his proposal to Monica had propelled Ross into the state of hopelessness he had displayed earlier that day left him in perpetual state of guilt.

Chandler took in a whiff before pulling the cigarette from lips and blowing a puff of smoke. It only took one week for his celebration high to come to a screeching halt, sending him crashing back to Earth, where it seemed everything he did just came back to bite him in the ass. He absorbed the sensation of the tobacco in his lungs to ease his stress, hoping the smoke would replace the lingering feeling of lament in his chest.

In the midst of the music from the night stage, he could make out the sounds of footsteps closing in from the window to his left.

"You coming to bed, Chandler?"

The sound of his fiancée's tender voice broke through the ambience of the city, gracing his ears. He turned to face Monica and all of her raven-haired, brown eyed glory. In that moment, he couldn't help but note just how much she resembled her brother. The notion made him reinforced his guilt, making him inwardly sick.

"Yeah, just give me a second."

She nodded at her response, and he nodded back with a brief smile, signaling their wordless agreement. After Monica's disappeared back into the apartment, Chandler put out the cigarette and dumped it in the ash tray sitting on the wall of the balcony. Monica had arranged that if anyone were to smoke in her apartment, the disposals should be kept outside to protect the apartment from fire hazards. Chandler had agreed to this demand, as he did all of Monica's sometimes strict arrangements.

He climbed back through the window into the living room and headed to the room he shared with his fiancée. He opened the door to the sight of Monica near the bedside drawer adjusting a photo he had taken with her on their date last night. He figured she must have heard him walking in when she turned to meet his gaze.

"Hey Chandler," she greeted him with a loving smile.

"Hey, baby." he replied monotonously with the same enthusiasm, or lack thereof, that a certain older Gellar had displayed earlier. He caught his melancholy tone of voice and quickly tried to cover it up. "Dinner was so good tonight."

"Yeah, it's less stressful for me to cook now that Ross is never over."

"Right," the mention of Ross' name brought forth the guilt once more, penetrating his shallow facade. Why couldn't Ross be happy for them? Anyone else would be grateful that a sister as great as her would be getting married to his best friend. Even to this day, the way Ross seemed to feel about things, as well as the way he drew out certain emotions from his friends still managed to baffle him.

Monica picked up on his downcast tone of voice. "What's wrong?" She asked while he turned her body to face him, her voice turning from loving to concerned.

"You mean besides the fact that the only two people I would want for a minister are either already my best man, or doesn't even want to come to my wedding...nothing...not gosh darn thing."

Monica rolled her eyes. "Chandler, forget about that. If my brother is too jealous of us to come to our wedding, than I say screw him."

Chandler threw his head back in confusion.

"Let's not worry about him, now." She shrugged before getting up and sorting through the closet. "This is our wedding, not his."

Knowing that arguing with Monica was a lost cause, Chandler let out a sigh as he sprawled out on the bed. He should have expected that Monica would be indifferent to Ross' refusal to come to the wedding. The way she saw it, he was just like their mother; he always thought that, as the gifted firstborn, he would find someone before her, but he had now been proven wrong and wanted to feel bad about it. Besides, she did have a point. No matter who came to their wedding, the only people that really mattered were him and his soul mate.

However, that didn't make her indifference any less frustrating to Chandler. It bothered him that Monica appeared to care less about her own brother's absence than he did.

"Why am I such a screw up, Monica?" He suddenly uttered.

Monica let out an exasperated grunt. "Chandler, you're not a screw up."

Chandler seemed to ignore her. "It seems like when I'm not too busy ruining my own life, I'm making someone else miserable."

"Oh, come on, Chandler, stop it. Ross is the one making himself miserable. You asked him to be the one to marry us, didn't you?"

Chandler sat up. "But you didn't see the way he acted this afternoon. You two have barely even spoken to each other since the night I proposed. You can't even be sure if jealousy is what he's feeling. I talked to at him at Central Perk this afternoon. He seemed...different."

"He'll get over it, Chandler." She shot back firmly.

"He didn't even speak a word to Rachel."

Monica opened her mouth to reply, but she immediately found herself at loss for words. "That is strange." She admitted in defeat. If Ross wasn't in the mood to even talk to Rachel, she knew something had to be up.

"Now you see what I mean. Something's totally up with him, and he's been that way since I proposed. I was just too stupid to notice until today."

"That's not your fault. He barely talks to any of us anymore."

"That just makes it worse. He's not even mad at me, he's just...gone. It's like he's completely different person now."

Monica let out another exasperated sigh.

Sensing her frustration, Chandler reached out and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder and looked her in the eyes. "Can you please just talk to him...for me?"

"Oh, please. You know I can't resist that look." Monica chuckled a bit at his playful begging. "Alright," she said in mock defeat. "Since it bothers you so much, I'll talk to him in the morning."

"Thank you, Mon."

She smiled as they finally found something to agree on. "Good. Now let's stop worrying about him," she said as she closed the space between them and connected her lips with his, "and let's focus on us."

A wide grin appeared across Chandler's face. "I'd like that. You're so great to me, Mon."

"Yeah, I know. But you're not allowed to use that look on me anymore"

"I'll try not to."

She chuckled before connecting her lips with his and engaging in a passionate kiss. Chandler pushed Monica onto her back as their lips stayed locked in a passionate kiss, before proceeding to enjoy the rest of his night in his fiancée's embrace.

* * *

Rachel found herself staring into the blank ceiling for the fourth hour that night. The image of Ross's deprived, glass expression continued to haunt her thoughts in strangely paralyzed droves. She couldn't explain it, nor could she explain how exactly she felt, but even after all of these years, Ross still managed to have this omniscient control over her. She felt it in her dreams and the other numerous windows into her uncontrollable subconscious. She couldn't tell if she was actually imagining these things, or if she wanted to imagine them, but either way, it seemed that no matter how hard she tried consciously, Ross found a way into her mind somehow. On this particular night, she did not enjoy the feelings that came with her thoughts.

It's amazing. Ross won't even talk to me, and here I am still thinking about him. Unbelievable.

She grunted out of anger. She wanted nothing more than to throw the image from her thoughts for the last time that night, but the way he looked her at, making sure she took in every detail of his defeated, almost emotionless state, was just too hard to forget.

Rachel rolled over and switched on the bedside lamp, its illumination mixing in with - yet strangely confining her from - the lights that shined upon the city's early morning slow dance. She took a bottle of sleeping pills sitting on the drawer and poured her half a hand-full. Ever since she broke up with Ross, she reserved sleeping pills at arm's reach in order to deal with the stress. She hadn't needed to use them lately, but of course it seemed Ross had managed to take hold on her again, and on this particular night, she needed assistance in allowing sleep to take priority over her racing thoughts. After downing the pills, she tossed her legs over the bedside and trudged her bedroom floor in her black sleeveless sleeping shirt and white shorts. Deciding to distract herself with a book until the pills took effect, she stopped at a shelf across from her bed and briefly eyed the book entitled Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury. It was a science fiction book that Ross had recommended and lent to her about a month ago, but she couldn't be bothered to dedicate much time to it.

She returned to her bed with the book in hand and began reading, not engrossing herself too much as her only motive was to pass the time. She half-mindedly ran her eyes across the rows of words on the pages until she came to a passage that piqued her attention.

"There must be something in books, something we can't imagine, to make a woman stay in a burning house; there must be something there. You don't stay for nothing."

Reading over the line of dialogue again, she couldn't help but think, somewhat cynically, that the situation reflected her own. Rachel was the woman, and Ross was the books that her subconscious felt she needed, though she couldn't imagine why. The burning house signified their ruined relationship that she knew she had to get out of, but there was just something there, something that she felt she needed, that she simply refused to let go of.

Perhaps that house had long since burned down already - or rather that ship had already sunk, alluding to the metaphorical ship that Ross had mentioned before their first real kiss at Central Perk on that night five years ago - but walking away from what they had, moving on and leaving behind her memories of the only man she ever really loved, after all this time, seemed like an impossibility.

Feeling sleepiness finally starting to settle in, she closed the book and switched the lamp off, encompassing her in nocturnal darkness fitting for the silence of her confines. Not bothering to get back up to return the book to her shelf, she set the book down on the bedside drawer keeping it close to her.

As she finally allowed sleep to slowly take it's comfortingly blank hold around her tired body, those words within the book ran through her head repeatedly. She passed through the window into a peaceful dream. A conflicted smile crept across her face.

Underneath the black walls of her subconscious, her eyes were locked to the flames.

* * *

"Ross?!" Monica called as she laid three modest knocks on his door. "It's Monica. You wouldn't answer your phone, so I came over to talk to you."

She stood before the door rather impatiently, but received no answer.

"Ross!" She yelled as she knocked on the door harder this time, beginning to grow irritated. "Ross! You can't keep to yourself forever, and you can't keep me out, so you might as well open this door."

She waited longer this time, but again received no answer.

"Fine, but I'm coming in anyway." She declared as she proceeded to dig her pockets for her key to Ross' apartment. She unlocked the door once she found it and entered. She immediately noticed the eerie silence that seemed to lock the apartment in a threshold her eyes immediately turned to the clock.

7:38

_Ross couldn't have left for work this early. His class doesn't start until 10:00._

**He's probably still asleep.**

"Ross!" She called out again into the seemingly empty apartment. She went into the bedroom, but found it to be empty as well. In fact, it appeared that no one had even slept in the bed. Starting to become worried, she scanned the closets and then the kitchen but found no trace of him. She decided that he must have spent the night out to keep her fears at bay, but when she came back into the living room, she felt something crack underneath her boot.

Slowly turning her gaze down, she found herself looking at a pile of broken glass spread out across the wooden floor. If she wasn't busy worrying about her brother. She might have noted that the sight before resembled a crime scene. She looked around frantically until her eyes came to the door to her side.

"Ross?" she called out with more desperation in her voice as she knocked on the bathroom door, "are you in there?" She was met with silence again. "Ross, you're scaring me. Please come out of there and talk to your sister. You can always talk to me."

When she, expectedly, received no answer again, she threw her hand in the air and grabbed the doorknob. She hesitated, thinking of the possibly embarrassing consequences of barging into her own brother's bathroom. When gained the courage to open the door, what she found was much more horrifying.

"ROSS!" She nearly screamed when she saw her brother sprawled out on the bathroom floor. She dove over him and rolled him over in her arms so that he was facing her. "Ross, can you hear me? What happened?" She shouted as she tried to shake him from his unconsciousness, but to no avail "Ross. Wake up!"

Though his eyes were closed, he was breathing frantically with sweat pouring from his beat red face. It was hard to tell if he was unconscious (he didn't seem to be able to hear her) but it was obvious that he was in pain.

"Oh God...okay..." She gasped as her in breathing started to accelerate, "...okay." She scooped her arms underneath his weakened body and pulled him onto his feet. She knew he wouldn't stay standing, so she supported him over her shoulder.

She led him from the bathroom and towards his bedroom. At first, he seemed aware of her enough to be able to follow her direction, but he quickly lost his grip and tumbled to the ground. "No! Don't you do this to me, you son of a bitch!" She exclaimed as she lowered herself to stop him from falling. She threw his arm over her shoulder and dragged his limp body the rest of the way to his bed. She breathed a sigh of relief when the weight on her shoulders released as she laid him across the bed.

She pulled a thin blanket from under him and spread it across his body. She then placed her hand across his forehead. Upon contact she knew that he had to have at least a one hundred degree fever.

She heard the phone in the living room begin to ring, but she ignored it. Instead, she ran from the bedroom into the kitchen and grabbed a cold bottle of water from fridge. She started to dig through the cabinets for a thermometer, but didn't find one. Noticing the amount of objects she moved around, she decided that she would tidy them up after she was done dealing with Ross; cleaning up always provided a nice distraction when she had too much to think about.

On her way back to the bathroom, she stepped on another piece of broken glass, wondering exactly how that had gotten there and adding it to the list of things to clean up. She entered the bathroom as the phone continued to ring, but she stayed focus with the task at hand as she searched Ross' mirror cabinet.

"Here it is." She murmured as she eyes came across a thermometer. She grabbed it from the cabinet and rushed back to the bedroom.

She set the bottled water on the drawer and took the thermometer in hand, but before she could check Ross's fever, the phone rang out again. "Shit!" She shouted in frustration. She ran into living room and quickly grabbed the phone. "Hello," she answered, trying to hide her grief.

"_Hi. This is Mount Sinai Hospital_." The woman on the other end greeted formally. "_Is Ross Geller there_?"

Monica immediately grew worried - more than she had already been - that Ross would be getting a call from the hospital. "He can't talk right now. Can I take a message?"

"_Sure. And who am I speaking to_?"

"This is Monica Gellar. I'm Ross's sister.

"_Ross's Sister! Okay...I was just calling to update your brother on the issue of his surgery_."

* * *

**Author's note: I'm so sorry this took me so long to update, but I unfortunately ended up in situation where I couldn't access my computer for two weeks. I'm not gonna make any promises on when I'm gonna post the next chapter considering my luck. I may not be able to post the next chapter for another week. Hopefully this blows over sooner rather than later so I'll be able to update more often again.**

**Thank you for reading. I've been getting great feedback so far, so keep up the reviews.**


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